The Hawke's Fate
by A Simple Dragon
Summary: Post Adamant. Letters arrive to each of Hawke's former companions sharing the sad news. SPOILERS!
1. Aveline

**Aveline**

**(A.N) My Hawke: Male, Warrior, Funny Personality.**

_Aveline._

_I don't know if by now you've heard, but; Hawke is gone._

_The whole thing went to shit; grey wardens, demons and a whole lot of blood magic._

_The Inquisition attacked a warden fortress in the Western Approach; they were summoning and binding demons to their will, well; to Corypheus' will. Remember him? We arrived just in time to stop them enslaving and killing themselves; but an Archdemon decided to show up and ruin the whole party. Like I said, shit._

_So more bad shit went down and we end up falling into the fade, with a very big and very angry nightmare demon stalking us. We managed to get to the end and beat back it's little fear demon friend; most of us made it through the rift and back into the real world, but Hawke, Alistair and the Inquisitor were blocked by the demon._

_When the Warden and the Inquisitor stepped out of the Fade without Hawke, well you can imagine what happened. Things have settled down here now and I'm hoping we can host a service for Hawke soon. Some bad shit is about to happen soon and I don't know if I'll come out the same or even alive._

_Maker's ass this is killing me Aveline, but; I'll get through this. Take care and watch over Daisy for me._

_Varric._

Aveline read the letter for the third time, she eyed the words with a stern expression; trying to ignore the tear stains marking the parchment. She turned away from the fire in the barracks common room; now the centre of order in the decaying city of Kirkwall. She walked into her office and closed the door gently; thankful that for once Donnic was out on patrol.

Leaning on her desk and trying to calm her emotions, she had to remain strong; she was the last piller of order in a city gone to hell. She swallowed a lump forming in her throat, she had swore; years ago, that no one she loved would ever be pulled from her ever again by fools and their wars. Yet she had failed; her best friend, truest ally and in her eyes; a brother. Now lay dead in the Fade.

White hot anger flashed within her and she lost it. Balling her fist, she puched the desk with so much force; that it nearly split in two. The pain in her hand was nothing compared to the pain in her chest, for the first time in years; she cried. Tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed and shuddered in silence, she tried to centre herself, but every time she tried; his smiling face would appear and her tears would begin anew.

She was about to fully fall apart, when a comforting hand rested on her shoulder, Aveline turned to see her husband; Donnic smiling sadly at her. Aveline felt stronger with Donnic near her, she placed her hand over his and returned his smile.

Aveline had lost someone who had meant the world to her, she had always protected the Hawke family; from their first meeting during the blight, till the day they had parted ways; Hawke believing it better for him to go into hiding. She had parted ways with the Champion; ordering him to return safely, he just smiled and made an ass of himself with a mock salute. She knew Hawke would torment her; if he ever saw her like this, finding her centre once again; the captain of the guard now had to give the city of Kirkwall even more bad news.

**(A.N) First one done. If you peoples liked it; great! If not; thanks for giving it a try. Just want to acknowledge and say thanks to HeidiBug731 for writing Fade Touched; that first chapter struck a cord with me and gave me the idea to write this story; you peoples should go check it out, you'll see what I mean.**

**Thanks for reading! Bu-bye! **


	2. Bethany

**Bethany. **

_Sunshine. _

_I don't how Nightingale's bird found, but if it did, then you need to know that your big brother is gone._

_If you're still angry at him for the whole deep roads thing; then I understand. I won't go into details about how he died; just know that he said goodbye and that he still loves you. I don't know if I can do this to you Sunshine or if you'll even attend, but; the Inquisition is hosting a service for him in Kirkwall, please come; it would mean the world to him and to us._

_Be safe Sunshine. _

_Varric._

The shrill winds of the Frostbacks made reading the letter difficult, but Bethany read every word with a cold stare. She shifted her cloak and looked around her, her party of wardens sat around the fire; but none of them even seemed to feel the cold, each were eight years her senior in the Order.

One of them saw her cold stare and seated himself next to her; he was a tall, slender man with greying black hair and a hooked nose; he always had dark shadows under his eyes, the dreams of the Archdemon had always struck him hard; that never effected his aim however. Nathaniel handed her a bowl of the uniform grey lamb stew and smiled at her, Bethany took the bowl and just gave him weary smile.

Across from them; a stocky, gruff, drunkard and excessively hairy dwarf; snored away his latest drunk stupor and at the mouth of cave; sat another dwarf: she had her axe and dagger sat across her folded lap, her horned helmet set on the floor next her, she watched the vast white expanse through a small brass spy - glass.

Nathaniel eyed the letter and then looked to Bethany; who was once again reading the letter with the same blank stare she gave everything lately. He was about to speak; when she just tossed the piece of paper into the fire. "Bad news?" Came the gruff tone of the male dwarf.

Bethany eyed Oghren with annoyance, but the dwarf just laughed her glare away and said. "I knew a witch that used to give the same look. Didn't bother me then, doesn't bother me when you do it." He smoothed his long, well - kept beard and grunted, before giving her a serious look; with his one good eye.

Bethany relented. "My brother's dead." Her voice was so cold, it surprised even her. Once upon a time; she would have weeped and cried like a child, but her time with the Wardens had hardened her heart to stone and now; the blight was her only concern. She had once hated her brother for taking her into the deep roads and then allowing _that_ abomination to 'save' her; but among the Wardens; she had found a new family, each one with a different story and identical goals.

"You going to his funeral?" Sigrun called from her perch at the mouth of the cave. Bethany shook her head, but the looks her comrades gave her; meant they weren't buying it.

Oghren sat foward and eyed Bethany; his good eye gleaming in the light of the fire. "Listen kid. We ain't got much time, a friend once told me. 'Life is too short to life with regrets; shorter even still for a Warden.' I don't think she meant for me to hear that part, but I did. I used to regret the man Branka made me. Now, I'm Warden - Constable of Ferelden, I still have good relationship with my wife and my kid. If you don't go to his send off; you'll regret you never got to say goodbye."

Nathaniel was next to speak. "We cut all ties to our old life correct? That does not mean we have to stop caring about those we left behind." He seemed to have said enough, he stood up and moved to the mouth of the cave; relieving Sigrun. Bethany lay down and stared up at the bare stone; sighing she rolled on her side and wiped away the single tear that was rolling down her cheek.

Morning came and the party were already making tracks before the morning sun had even coated the snow laced path. As they began their decent into the Hinterlands, Bethany announced to the group. "I plan on leaving for the Free Marches when we have completed the mission. I don't plan on being gone for long." She couldn't see it, but the group of senior Wardens were smiling.

"So you'll be leaving right now then? The missions over. We were told to scout the path and ensure it was clear of anything blighted." Sigrun smiled at the shocked expression Bethany gave them. Nathaniel turned and tossed a large purse of coins at Bethany, she caught it and shifted her expression to the Howe; he just waved off her thanks. Oghren stopped suddenly and turned to face the junior Warden. "Don't worry. Warden - Commander Caron will hear directly from me. You won't get charged for going to your brother's funeral." Bethany thanked all of them and parted ways with them; destined for Gwaren.

When she arrived at the coastal city; the Inquisition was all any one could talk about, she was glad that a Warden was going unnoticed for a change. She booked passage on a ship destined for Ostwick and from there; she would travel either by horse or on foot to Kirkwall. She would say her farewells and would never again look back in regret or anger, she would move forward as a Warden and as a Hawke. She would at last be free from pain.

**(A.N) I decided to go with Warden Bethany; because I wanted to show a more hardened Bethany ( I also wanted to work my favourite Berserker into the story.)**

**Hope you peoples enjoyed it. Please leave a review or PM me with what you think.**

**Thanks for reading! Bu-bye!**


	3. Merrill

**Merrill**

_Daisy_

_I really wish I wasn't writing to tell you this, shit; I don't want to even imagine the look on your face when you read this. The reason I have to write this is; Hawke's dead Merrill. I know you won't want to believe this; trust me, neither do I. Hawke sacrificed himself to save us at Adamant. He stayed behind in the Fade to buy us time to escape, but he never came back out._

_I know you Daisy, you will try to pretend to be fine, but please; for your own sake as well as mine. Don't try to deal with this on your own. Talk to Aveline or Isabela, or shit; even Fenris. Don't try to bottle this up Daisy, please. _

_Varric. _

Merrill sat in her small house, the small, cramped building seemed even more so as the letter sank in. She rubbed her eyes again, trying to fight back the tears. She knew the truth; Varric and Hawke were playing a joke on her, she knew the truth of it. Any minute now; Hawke would walk through that door, smile down at her like always, hug her and make one of his jokes; that she sometimes missed.

She sat there watching the door. The hours of the day began to tick away, her muscles ached and her stomach growled; but she would not move, if she did; then the lies in the letter would true and her greatest friend was now dead. She could no longer sit upright, her back ached, her legs were stiff and her eyes were sore from the constant rubbing.

Her body gave in. It could not continue its constant vigil on the door any longer. She fell to her side; her head falling onto sheep's wool stuffed pillow. She could not hold the tears back any more. She began to weep; it was a faint noise, no louder than whisper, but it slowly and gradually built. Her weeping, turned to sobbing; her choked voice echoed through the small house.

She spent hours lost in her sorrow. When the front door did open and an armored figure strode into the house. The figure looked down at the defeated elf; the cheeks scarred with wet lines, her eyes swollen and red, she just stared right through Aveline. The guard - captain felt a chill run down the her spine, Merrill's eyes held nothing but sorrow and lose in them. Truly the naive, kind and slightly crazy elf girl was gone; now replaced by hollow husk, intent to just waste away and fade.

Aveline crouched at the head of the bed and looked Merrill in the eye; the glassy, hollow stare she received in return sent another chill down her spine. "Merrill." her voice was soft and kind; losing its usual strong tone. "I know your upset, I was too. Hawke was my friend, aswell as yours. We all have to grieve, but please, don't make yourself ill." Aveline stood straight and walked back into main room.

She was gone for a while and when she walked back into Merrill's bedroom, she was carrying two bowls filled with fresh, steaming stew. The smell of chicken and vegetables made Merrill's stomach roar with anticipation and her mouth began salivate, she could not deny her hunger. So she stood from her bed, quietly accepted a bowl and sat back on the bed.

Aveline sat next to her; her armour causing more noise than Merrill's headache could stand. She began to eat the stew, her every movement, her calm disposition, her lack of emotion; each of these began to grate at Merrill and as her tears fell into the bowl of untouched stew, she snapped.

Anger took ahold, she sprang to her feet and launched the bowl at the wall, she then turned her anger on Aveline. "It's your fault!" She screamed, tears racing down her face. Aveline showed no sign of emotion on her face; Merrill's anger raged even more at the stoney look the ginger haired warrior gave her. "You promised! You promised to me; that you would look after Hawke. You said you would and you lied!"

Aveline seemed to take that one to heart. She stood up from her seat and squared off with elf. Merrill however; was not going to be intimidated. "You lied." Her voice a hoarse whisper. "You promised to keep Hawke safe and you just let him leave. Why did you not like him? Did you want him to die? You are a lier and a bad friend and..." She saw that Aveline still held that same blank expression, her rage erupted and she did something she thought she would never do. She punched Aveline in the jaw; screaming. "Say something!"

Aveline took the hit, it had hurt Merrill more than her, but she knew the elf needed this; she needed someone to hate right now. "What do you want me to say? Hawke is dead, move on." That was it. Merrill summoned all her rage and drew upon her magic. Electricity began to crackle in her hands, Merrill gave Aveline a look with the intent to kill, but when she saw the look in warrior's eyes; she purposely directed the bolt away from Aveline and into the shattered remains of the nearby mirror.

She looked at Aveline, horror and shock on her face, her legs gave in and she began to fall to floor. Before she could hit the hard wooden floor, Aveline pulled her into a gentle embrace. Merrill felt the air forced out of her lungs; Aveline often forgot that they had two very different forms of gentle.

Merrill quickly recovered and returned the hug. She and Aveline may have had their issues in the past, but Merrill was grateful for warrior's presence. She cried into the cold metal of Aveline's armour, her sobbing becoming quieter and quieter; eventually her tears dried up and she pulled away from the embrace. Aveline gave her a small smile and punched her playfully in the arm. "That's for what you said." She said in a stern tone, a finger aimed at Merrill's face.

"I'm sorry." Merrill hung her head in shame but quickly shook away negative emotions; she could already feel the unwanted attention she was beginning to garner from the Beyond; the last thing this city needed was another crazy abomination running around. She looked at Aveline and decided on her next course of action.

"Aveline. I need you come with me please." The guard captain gave her a quizzical look, but Merrill just gave her that smile that would make even a Qunari melt. The two women made their way out of Kirkwall and deep into the rocky outcrops of the Sundermount. Merrill avoided the clearing that her old clan were camped in and instead led Aveline to a small clearing that was unlike any other part of the Sundermount.

Instead of high rising hills and boulders, this small clearing rested on flat ground and was surrounded on all sides by a wall of stone. Aveline was unsure of what to think of this place or why Merrill had dragged her here. She turned to see the elf girl digging a hole in the soft soil and that's when she saw it. A strange blue ash was laced into the soil and seemed to give the bland ground a whole new feeling. Aveline was fully aware of what the ash was; she was still wondering what Merrill was intending.

Merrill reached into the pack resting at her hip and from it, she removed a single seed. It was no bigger than walnut, it's surface smooth and black in colour. Merrill dropped the seed into the hole and quickly replaced the soil; covering the small seed completely. She stood up and bowed her head in prayer and Aveline finally caught on what she was witnessing. A Dalish bruial.

Aveline bowed her head and waited for Merrill to finish. "Falon'Din guide you Lethallin" Merrill reached into her pack and removed a small bundle wrapped on a sheepskin cloth. Merrill pulled back the cloth and revealed to wooden objects. The first was the small wooden halla; Hawke had given to her many years ago and the second was a small piece of metal, crafted in the shape of a shield and emblazoned on the front was the Hawke family crest. She placed both near the disturbed patch of dirt and quickly channelled into the dirt beneath the two objects.

To Aveline's surprise, vibrant green roots rose up from the dirt and wrapped around the two objects; securing them to that spot for the rest of time. Merrill turned to face Aveline and smiled at her friend, tears welled in her eyes again; but she would not allow them to fall in this place. This was place where she could come and remember the joy and happiness Hawke had showed her. She would forever feel a little sadder with his absence, but this was a place to honour and remember; not to grieve.

**( A.N ) Sorry it took so long. I have just been all over the place lately. Everyone's favourite broody elf is next. Hope you peoples enjoyed it. Bu-bye! **


	4. Fenris

**Fenris**

_Elf_

_You will probably want to hurt someone when you read this, so please leave Kirkwall before you start glowing._

_The reason I disturbed your slaughter of slavers, is because Hawke is dead. Not to piss you off even more, but; it was at the hands of blood mages; Warden blood mages. They let our old friend Corypheus get into their heads and make them think they were all about to kick it._

_They let a magister trick them into trying to summon a demon army. I know you cared about Hawke; even if you tried to hide behind all that brooding, but he died a hero and everyone is coming home for his funeral. Hope to see you there._

_Varric_

The dwarf had been right on two accounts: The first; he had cared about Hawke, the man was worthy of respect and his first ever real friend. The second; he had really needed to kill something after reading the letter.

For three days he had tracked the slavers caravan. For three days he had stalked them, past villages and towns, watched as they gathered their _product _and after he witnessed the death of a young girl; who had been so frightened, she had been unable to stop crying. He would wait no longer. He felt his rage burn within him, it still bubbled and frothed like a storm ridden sea, he could not avenge his friend; but he could make these men wish they had never been born.

He stood from his hiding place within the bushes and strode in the direction on the camp. The man he assumed was the leader stood up and approached the mouth of the camp. "Look here boys. A willing recruit, slap the chains on him and toss him in with the rest." Fenris felt he both anger and joy well within. The man leading the group was not only a Tevinter; but also a mage.

Fenris allowed the first man to get close, he waited until his was inches from snapping the manacles around his wrists; he felt his skin ignite in both pain and light. The lyrium etched into his skin illuminated the warrior in a ghostly light and allowed him to do things no ordinary warrior could do.

The was dead within seconds, as Fenris reached into his chest and crushed the man's heart with a very audible boom. The slavers were so taken aback by the elf's attack, that they failed to react in time before he had cut down three more of their members. Fenris clashed with a brute of a man wielding a massive hammer forged of red steel and eager for the elf's blood.

Fenris parried a heavy strike with his own great blade, to most men; the blade was nothing special, a greatsword with a fire rune embedded within perhaps, but the way Fenris held this blade, the way he ensured nothing nicked or chipped the blade; told an entire different tale. In his hands, he held a Blade of Mercy; it stood for his defiance against the man he had once called _Master_, but it stood for something much more now. It was a symbol of the trust and friendship Hawke had given him, he would forever wield this blade as a token to his now fallen friend.

The brute pressed and pressed, eager to break Fenris; but the elf held his ground until his enemy left a hole in his guard wide enough for him exploit. Knocking the hammer away from his opponent's body, he quickly drove the pommel of the blade hard into the human's face. The big man staggered back and allowed Fenris to follow up, he dropped low and kicked the man's feet out from under him. The man had little time to cry out, as before his back hit the floor; Fenris turned his blade over and drove the tip down into the falling foe and pinned the man to the ground.

Fenris panted heavily, but he was not done. He turned his gaze onto the last remaining man; the mage stood there, his face drained of all colour and his knees shaking. Fenris sneered at the man and was sure he would have fought back; instead the man fell to his knees and begged for his life.

Fenris could not hide his disgust for the man, he released his hold of the sword and began walking towards the mage; who looked and gave the elf a mad smile. His back arched, a silent scream escaped his throat, his skin began to burn and his body began to grow into an unnatural and grotesque form. Fenris cursed to the Maker for his foolishness, rats always turned to bite when backed into a corner.

The creature staring back at him; eyes full of fear and rage, was no longer human. The mage, who had been afraid of death at his hands; had turned to the forbidden and in doing so, had given up their right to exist in Fenris' eyes. The creature let loose a noise; that was somewhere between a growl and a scream. The creature with it's twisted body and eyes filled with too much life for such a creature; would chill the blood of any being who came across it, but Fenris had encountered such beings multiple times and was more angry than afraid.

He lunged for his blade; only for a wall of flame to erupt between him and the blade. The abomination tilted its head at him, in what he could only guess was a smile. The creature began moving; an unnatural shuffle, akin to that of a man trying to move in clothes too small for him. The creature drew close and conjured fire onto its claws; fingers did not fit the long and gangly appendages. It charged at the elf, intent to rend the flesh from his bones.

Fenris ignited the lyrium and waited for the creature to pass through him; it was then that he noticed something was off about the abomination, it was intent on him; instead it aimed for the caravan filled with would - be slaves. His body reacted before he could form the a clear thought, he put himself between the slaves and possessed mage. His face distorted with pain; as the creature's claws dug into the flesh of his arms. He pushed back against the creature, his strength being outmatched by the unnatural power of the demon within the mage.

He felt his muscles straining and the wounds on his arms screaming in agony, he would be able to hold the creature off and protect the prisoners, he formed a plan in his mind and with all the strength he could muster; pushed the abomination back. He quickly turned and broke the lock of the cage. "Run now!" He charged at the demon and tackled it to the ground; he felt it resisting and struggling against his grip, he could hear its guttural cries as it swiped at his chest; barely scratching the obsidian armour.

He raised his right hand and willed the lyrium to ignite, recognition registered in the creature's eyes and it doubled its efforts to get free; now employing magic into its strikes. Fenris struggled to maintain his grip and focus on the precision strike he needed, suddenly he felt a great force strike his chest; sending him reeling through the air. He landed inches from his blame; the flame liking at his blood - stained white hair. He groaned at the pain to stand and was shocked when both the pain stopped and the flames around his blade were extinguished.

He looked up to see two small children; no older ten. Each channeling mana and casting spells. A young boy with crisp blue eyes and reddish hair; channelled magic into the wound on his back, while a young girl with the same hair and eyes; produced a cone of ice from her hands and onto the flames. He felt sick at needing help from mages, but he thanked the two children none the less. He removed his sword from the ground, just in time to deflect a ball of fire thrown at him and the children.

The creature leaned forward and roared at the warrior, but Fenris just sneered at the demon and charged; his blade lowered to strike. The demon took his challenge and charged at the elf; flames engulfing its claws.

Two met with the clash of steel and stone hard flesh. They each matched each other's strikes and countered each with ease, but the demon was beginning to waiver; it was new to this world and could not match a seasoned warrior like Fenris. Knowing it was going to lose at this rate, the creature tossed a ball of fire at the ground; sending the warrior back onto his ground.

Fenris pulled himself up to see the abomination attempting to flee into distance. He was about to let such a creature escape, grasping his sword firmly in his hand, he took off after the demon.

He was not sure how long he had lay there, next to the dead monstrosity, when a small group of humans blocked the Sun from his eyes and carried his weary body away. He was carried back to the site of his battle with slavers, where he saw they had been stripped of all their gear and passed around. They welcomed him as their hero, he who had saved them from a life of slavery, he found that the two mage children had followed after him when he chased after the demon. He just shrugged off their thanks; he did not care for it. "I did this not for your benefit. A friend of mine would have never forgiven for letting them get away with it."

He parted ways with the group; after giving them directions to the city of Starkhaven. They asked him to come with them, he declined; he had to attend to something important back in Kirkwall. They wished him well and parted ways with their saviour, he began the long and lonely walk back to Kirkwall; but he felt at peace. Hawke may have been gone, but he was never forgotten. His friend would live on in the actions of those who had cared for him; Fenris would ensure no man, woman or child suffered a life of slavery because of the path Hawke had carved for this world.

Hawke was gone but he had left Fenris with something the elf had not had in a long time. A purpose of his own and the freedom to choose his own path.

**( A.N ) So this one was filled with a bit more action, but come on did you really think I would right the best and most badass elf in all of Thedas as crying emotional wreck? NEVER! Besides, Fenris does kind of get emotional, if you count murderous intent as an emotion. Anyway, Isabela and Anders are the next two. Hope you enjoyed. Bu-bye!**


	5. Anders

**Anders**

_Blondie._

_I don't know if Red's birds will get this to you and frankly, I don't give a shit._

_The only reason I am writing this; instead of tracking you down and finding out what Aveline has planned for you. Is because Hawke is dead. He died doing what he did best, being a hero and sorting out the mess of mad wardens. _

_I don't know if you will show your face in Kirkwall or not. But if you do, we are planning on holding a service for him. You were his friend and you were mine once, he would want you to be there. If you do show up, don't worry about Choir-boy; I'll keep him off you._

_Varric. _

Anders just stared at the letter blankly. He did not how to feel about its contents, he had not expected to ever receive a letter out here; least of all from Varric. The dwarf had made his feelings towards Anders quite clear the last time they had spoken. But Hawke dead? He was having a hard time believing it.

He looked up, staring at the cloudless sky and infinite horizon. He should have felt something for the loss of his friend, but in truth, he just felt numb.

Hawke had been one of his most trusted friends, he was always a bit of an ass and far too sure of himself and his skill in battle. But that had always been a part of his charm. He had always stood up for Anders; when their companions would judge his actions and condemn him for a an abomination. Hawke would stand up for him; even after he had blown up the Chantry, killed hundreds of people and systematically started a war; Ages in the making. Hawke was always there to bring him back, whenever his control over Vengeance slipped and the wrathful spirit took over.

What was he supposed to feel after losing such a friend? He had had a friend similar like that when he was a Warden, but it was still a hollow shadow compared to the friendship he had had with Hawke. What was he meant to feel at such a loss?

He stamped his staff into the ground and a sphere of magic erected around him, shielding him from the harsh sun of the Western Approach. He removed the stopper of his water skin and took a long glup of the cool liquid, kept cool by the shard of magical ice sitting at the bottom of the skin. He lay back and closed his eyes, memories of his friends flooded into him and he found himself remembering a less exciting day, but still a fond one.

_Anders, Hawke, Isabela and Aveline made their daily rounds around Kirkwall's Lowtown. The air was filled the scent of unwashed bodies, the acrid smog of the foundries and of filth in general; still a step up from the Blackmarsh however, if only a small one. Isabela stopped at a stall laden with shiny trinkets and such. Aveline went off to speak with a portly balding man off to the side; likely one of her informants. While he and Hawke stood watching the crowd._

_"Lowtown. Lovely." He rested on his staff; blatantly daring the nearby templar to try something with the Amell scion so close. The armoured man sneered in disgust and stomped off; mumbling maleficar. Anders felt Vengeance stir within him, but he kept the spirit down as best he could, though he was aware his eyes had glowed for the shortest time. Hawke did not seem to notice._

_"Well how else could we are daily dose of pickpockets, cut-throats and crazy blood mages. Speaking of which, we should go see how Merrill is doing later." He said with the largest grin on his face. Anders let his emotions betray him and he laughed at the joke. Aveline walked back over, with Isabela clapped in irons; again. The smuggler had her best innocent smile plastered on her face. "Again Isabela?" Hawke shifted his weight to emphasise his exhaustion at the reoccurring event._

_"What? He said they were having a special sale. If you are named Isabela, then you can help yourself to his lockbox." Her answer earned an unimpressed groan from Aveline and a laugh from Hawke._

_Aveline pushed Isabela in the direction of Hightown. "Don't wait up Hawke. More paper work to signed because of you. Move it slag." Aveline gave the smuggler a harsh shove._

_"Ohh Aveline." Isabela cooed. "I like it when you play rough. Then again rough is all you can do isn't it, being the ball crusher you are." Her jab earned her another harsh shove from the guard captain. _

_Anders watched the spectacle with a bored expression, he had seen this play so many times now; it had stopped being amusing. Anders and Hawke both decided that the best way to spend the day; was to drink it away at the Hanged Man._

_So the friends did just that. They spent the time from midday to early evening drinking with their friend Varric. The dwarf had taken to telling them one of his tall tales, which Anders was eager to match with a tale of his time with the Wardens. _

_"Ands than, thish huge dra(hic)gon came burshting out of the sky." He gestured with his hands to emphasise his point. He leaned forward; as if what he was about to say was a secret and whispered. "She was made out lightning." He laughed like he had made a joke, downed the last of his ale and continued on. "So there we are (hic) bout to face this monster. I'm close to pissen myself, the smelly dwarf is laughing his arse off and Justice ish just standing there, waiting for the fight to start." He waved at the bar maid who brought them over three more ales._

_Hawke placed a small pouch of coins on the tray she carried and gave her a quick wink, earning him a girlish giggle and a blush. Anders carried on with his drunken tale. "The Commander however... just looks at the beast, gives it this look 'e did when he was bored and let the first arrow fly." He mimicked the action and ended it with a 'pew', before passing out at the table._

_When he awoke, he was in Varric's suite. His head felt like he had tried headbutting a Qunari and he was certain the room was spinning. He so rarely got drunk now, that it hit him hard. He shifted his weight and sat up, oddly enough, with the amount he had drank the night before, he shouldn't have been hungover._

_As if reading his mind, Varric moved into his line of sight. The dwarf was grasping his signature crossbow; Bianca. He had an unusual stern expression and a small welt was forming on his head. The dwarf opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly the wooden doors to the suite burst open. Anders pulled himself off the bed and darted for his staff, but the look Varric gave him, made him change his mind._

_"Again with the shields!" Anders made out Hawke's voice over the din of battle outside the room. "Varric! One coming your way!" Varric aimed down Bianca's sights and waited, when a man dressed in simpler leather, yet holding a sun shield burst into the room. Varric loosed a single bolt from the crossbow and the templar fell with a wet gurgle and a dull thud._

_Anders listened until the battle finally ended and Hawke walked into the room, carrying a semi - conscious templar; his face marred in blood and his sword arm hanging limply. Hawke dumped the man into a chair and stormed out of the room, his eyes filled with fire._

_Anders gave the dwarf a mad look, but Varric just smiled and sat in the chair next to bed. He gave Bianca a quick check before turning his head to the mage. "Poison. Hawke smelt it when they first brought the drinks over, he knew that if one of us didn't drink it, we wouldn't find out who was targeting us. When you fell unconscious, this lot made their move." He gestured to the man slumped in the chair. "Hawke found orders from some templar, they wanted Hawke dead and you made tranquil by nightfall. He's gone to meet his would be executioners, with Aveline, Choir-boy and the Elf."_

_That did not smooth his mood. "Why did you not let me help?" He did not hide the sharpness in his voice._

_Varric just shrugged and answered. "Hawke didn't want to risk it. If a mage suddenly started throwing fireballs at them, then their actions would be justified and they would have every right to execute you on the spot. He wouldn't let that happen." Varric stood as the door opened and in walked several dwarfs, grabbed in the signature armour of the Carta. Varric dropped a pouch of coins in the leader's hand and whispered something into his ear. Anders knew the templar would not enjoy what was coming to him when he woke up._

Anders opened his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. He had almost forgotten that day, he still could not believe how readily Hawke had defended him from a fate worse than death. He hae saved his life numerous times and the mage had equally saved the warrior just as much. Yet he had taken so much more from him as well.

Maybe what he was supposed to be feeling was a mix of pride and guilt. He had known and been friends with such an amazing person and he had equally destroyed the life he had built in Kirkwall. A piece of him wished that Hawke and his sister had never walked through the doors of his clinic and another piece would not change a single minute of it.

Had Hawke died angry, cursing his name and the Wardens or had he died with that grin on his face, knowing that this would be the last time he would ever enter battle. Hawke had always said. 'If I get sick or too old. You lot need to promise me something. Come at me with everything you have, I won't die from infection or age. I'm a reaver. If my enemies don't piss themselves at least once in battle with me, then I'm not doing a good job. I want to die battling the most worthy group of people I have every met.' He had said that with a straight face and his friends had each agreed to his request. A small comfort; Hawke had died fighting, like he had always wanted.

Anders turned to face the east, he should attend the service and yet. He would not be welcome. Instead the mage turned west once again. He would travel to the lands beyond and find his former commander. He had a lot to answer for and only that certain Elven Warden would serve as his judge and if he deemed it necessary, his executioner.

**A.N. So Anders is done. I hope you peoples liked it. I went with the memories, because in my eyes, that's all Anders has left. The part with the poison was the only way to explain how Anders got drunk. Also I had to right drunk Anders. Did you get the Awakening reference?**

**On an side note. I have instead decided to save Isabela till last, as she was my Hawke's romance choice, so next chapter will be my least favourite character yet with my second favourite voice in the game. Sebastian.**

**Leave a review or PM with what you think. Bu-bye! **


	6. Sebastian

**Sebastian**

_Choir-boy. _

_Hawke would want you to hear this. I know you and he did not see eye to eye, he was always pushing you back to Starkhaven. You won't like this, but I think he was right to do it._

_The reason behind this letter is to tell you that Hawke is dead. He died buying time for the Inquisitor to escape the fade. He died a hero. As busy as you laying siege to my home, we are planning on holding a wake soon. Wouldn't be right without everyone there._

_Varric. _

Sebastian read the letter in the dim light of Starkhaven's Palace. He squinted in effort, but he saw little reason in lighting anymore. He read the letter again and again, Varric's words had indeed been true, he had asked his contacts within the Inquisition and they had confirmed it.

In truth, he felt somewhat ashamed, he had never been able to call the man a friend; especially after he had stood in defence of the murderer Anders, the very man who had thrown the world into complete chaos. He felt a familiar pain welling within him and he did not want any of his advisors see him like this.

He placed the letter on table and strode towards the balcony of his room. He opened the tall glass doors and stepped out into the pouring rain. He was swallowed by the rush of cold water, he did not care, he liked the rain; it always cleared his head. He let the pouring rain soak him to bone and chill his core.

He gripped the stone banister, his face set into a grim expression; yet silent tears still rolled down his cheeks. He should not feel this way about the death of one man, when an entire city sat beneath him, awaiting his orders, seeking his council. All he could do was allow the pain to be washed away with the rain.

He and Hawke had never been even close to friends, but the man had done so much for him. He had avenged the deaths of his family for him, he had aided him in bringing the true conspirators to justice, he had returned his grandfather's bow to his hand; the very same bow that hung above the fire of his bed chamber.

He owed the man so much. Whould he even be here right now; Prince of Starkhaven, without Hawke. He knew that without Hawke's constant pushing, he would have abandoned Starkhaven to his cousin and lived a peaceful live in the Chantry. Hawke had made him see what he needed to do and where he was needed most. If only if had not come to such an end.

He regretted never having truly thanked Hawke for all he had done and he regretted having never mending the gap that had been forged between them. Had they been friends. Whould Hawke have chosen differently? Whould he have put Anders to the sword and sided with the Templars? In his heart, he would have stood in the defence of the mages; had Hawke only put Anders to death.

He felt the chill bite through the house coat and he turned away from the balcony and returned to the warmth of his bed chamber. He approached the large round oak table, set in the middle of the room, a large map of the southern Free-Marches lay top it. He eyed the small markers dotting the map, most consisted of small white chalices carved from ivory, than their were the bronze markers of Kirkwall; most gathered around the city itself. The ones that irked him most were the steel markers, made to appear as an eye wreathed within a sunburst with a sword striking through the middle.

He maintained a political relationship with the Inquisition, but they had blatantly ignored his requests for aid and instead had bolstered the forces of Guard - Captain Aveline. He wanted to focus on the war table, but his thoughts were too filled with grief to allow coherent strategy form within his minds. He would find Anders no matter what it took or how much it cost.

**A.N. So not gonna lie, I did not like writing this one, I don't like Sebastian. If it seems less focused on Hawke's death and more on Sebastian's vendetta against Anders, is because it is. In my mind, I see him with clear sight on his goal, to make Anders pay.**

**Sorry if it is not my best work. Trust me, Isabela's chapter will be way better.**

**Leave a review, PM me or follow and favourite if you liked. Bu-bye! ( DEATH TO SEBASTIAN!)**


	7. Isabela

**Isabela**

_Rivaini_

_Don't know if this will ever reach you. If it does, don't do anything stupid; the Inquisitor is not to blame._

_When we were dealing with the Wardens at Adamant, something happened there. We ended up in the fade, trapped by a giant fear demon._

_We pushed through and eventually found an exit. Myself and two others made it out okay, but Hawke, Alistair and The Inquisitor were delayed. _

_When only Adaar and Alistair stepped through the rift, I knew the worst had happened. The Inquisitor told me that his last words were "I'm sorry Isabela." He was thinking of you when he died._

_Please promise me you won't do something even you would regret. We will be holding a service for him when shit clears up with the Inquisition. The Inquisitor has even promised to see to any expense and will be present in Kirkwall during the service. Please come. It would mean a lot to Hawke. _

_Take care of yourself out there._

_Varric. _

Isabela sat at the bar of the Maiden's Kiss. A tavern on the Antivan docks; filled with women, she knew were no maidens. The sounds of drinking, swearing, gambling and roaring laughter, would normally lift her spirits, but right now. She felt so alone and hollow.

She lifted the bottle of whiskey off the letter and took a full swig, she was not feeling the buzz she normally did while drinking with her crew. Right now however, they could all burst into flames and she would not move a muscle.

Deciding it was pointless. She stood from the stool and stumbled, her usual grace and skill seemed gone despite being sober. She fell into a giant burly man with a greying beard hanging down to his protruding gut. He sneered at the her and she saw that he was now covered with beer.

The look he gave her pissed her off, did he expect her to just back off? She put a hand on her hip and spoke loudly. "That should at least help with the smell of piss!" Her fellow sailors laughed at the big man and his face contorted into pure rage.

Isabela should have seen what would happen next easily, but her mind was still fogged by something. She felt the sharp blow strike her in gut, it knocked the wind out of her and nearly sent her down to her knees. "Rivain scum! Bunch of Oxmen lick spittles" He went to strike her again, only this time. Isabela was ready.

She moved faster than the big man could act and before he even knew what had happened. Isabela was atop the bar and poised to strike. He roared in rage and moved for her, she leaped into the air, twisted her body through the air and landed behind the man. She delivered a kick to his back and sent him face first into the wooden bar.

The man fell with a great crash, but he was back up a moment later. He growled at her and reached behind him to draw a scimitar. Isabela hated those curved blades, they hacked more than cut; not the weapon of a true raider, but some novice who thought he was bigger than he was.

He swung the blade down, only to strike the wooden floor. Isabela was now standing atop a nearby table, her crossbow aimed at the man, he gulped down a breath of air, before Isabela pulled the trigger. The bolt struck the man between the eyes and he stumbled back, before finally falling over backwards and laying there dead as a door nail.

Isabela holstered the weapon and moved for the door. Two men stood in her path, but they quickly scrambled out of the way and let her pass with no fuss. She opened the wooden door and stepped out onto the storm ridden pier.

The storm had raged for nearly two days now. It had given Isabela's men time enough to be sick of land once again. Isabela avoided her ship 'The Queen of Llomerran'. Hawke had surprised her with it on the last day they had spent in Kirkwall. He had chosen the name. She had taken such a liking to it, she had taken the name for herself.

She gave the ship a quick look, her eyes filled with sorrow. She would not cry, she was an admiral for Andraste's sake. Then why was she so wiping tears away at this moment? She had been left alone before, those who should have loved her had betrayed her or left her in the past. Why should this be any different? She walked along the sodden pier, barely even aware of the rain, it was good actually, it would hide the tears running down her cheeks.

She stopped at the edge and looked out at the Rialto Bay. The grey waters frothed and roared with the storm. Waves crashed against the stone pier and lanced into air, spraying Isabela's face with even colder water than the rain. She took a step closer to edge, looking down into the cold waters. 'One more step and no more pain, no more loneliness. Hawke will be there waiting for me.' The grim thought gained purchase and her foot went over the edge.

She did not move. She begged her body to move, but it betrayed her dark thoughts. She did not want to live without him, he had given her everything she had ever wanted, he had defended and tolerated her selfish behaviour and he was far from shy in bed. Than why could she not do it? Why did she have to live and he didn't?

Realisation hit her and she fell away from the edge. Even now she was being selfish, her grief came from guilt. Pirate scum like herself was alive, yet he had died? It was all wrong.

She did not care anymore if anyone saw her, she fell to her knees and bawled like a child. She cried into the storm, the thunder drowning her agonised screams, she cursed the Maker, Andraste and the Wardens. She had lost him forever. He would be where she could never go.

Her grief spent. She let the tears pour, she would not let them stop until she was certain not single one remained. She was not some child, too afraid to move on her own two feet. She knew that if she had done it, Hawke would never have forgiven her. She would meet him again, in wherever they went when the end came. She just had to figure out a way to do it.

She stood up and looked out at the bay once more, the storm was finally starting to pass and she could feel good head winds coming her way. She had a plan, first she would say her goodbyes to Hawke, then she would figure out the rest. But their was something more important to do first. She needed a new hat.

**A.N. Done. Hope it was better than the previous one. I could not end it on a sad note, not Isabela. Plus if you have played her on DA:I multiplayer; her new hat is awesome!**

**One more chapter to go. The last one will be the funeral. And advanced warning; I will be taking my time with it. It is a lot to cover and emotions will flare in the chapter. It will be a month at the earliest. So stay patient.**

**You peoples are the best. Leave a review, PM me or favourite if you like. Bu-bye! **


	8. Varric

**Varric**

_In my whole life, there has only every been one story I wouldn't tell. Now I add to that list, the tale of Hawke's funeral. I am writing this shit down, so I never have to speak it aloud again._

"It's raining." Varric looked up and let the rain splash on his face, he needed to feel it, he needed to know this was actually happening. He looked around and felt his heart grow heavy. All around them, stood all people Hawke had helped over the years; from those who he had simply returned something to to people he had saved from death or Tranquillity, practically all of Kirkwall was gathered in High Town.

He looked around spotted several people he knew from his adventures with Hawke. The kid Feynriel with his mother, Keran in his templar armour with Macha standing next to him, Varric was even sure he saw an elven girl with stark red hair among the crowd; but he did not want to deal with that shit right now. What was making this even more unbearable, were the looks on everyone's faces. He hated funerals.

He looked to those he considered to be his greatest friends and Sebastian, they looked worse than he felt. Aveline was trying to hold herself together; she would never allow her guardsmen to see her cry but Varric knew; she was bawling on the inside.

Isabela stood there holding Merril close to her chest; the elf had not stopped crying all day and Isabela was not holding back her tears any better.

Fenris had his head turned up to sky, he was trying his damndest to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks. That was one thing Varric never thought he would see; the brooding elf crying.

Sebastian had brought with him a whole host of clerics from the Starkhaven Chantry, yet none of them had been permitted to perform the ceremony; a slight the sisters took to heart. The Prince himself however; held his eyes forward and allowed the world to see his tears, he would not hide the pain Hawke's death caused him.

The biggest surprise came from Bethany. The younger Hawke stood there in full Warden regalia and held her composure better than even Aveline, she just stood there; stone faced as a Golem and as emotionless as one to boot.

Varric said a silent prayer to himself; thanking the Maker, that Anders had chosen to stay away. He was all too aware of all the cats watching over the sqaure, as usual his mind ran wild with absurd theories, that the mage was watching them through the eyes of one of the little felines.

He listened silently to the Mother Giselle lead the Chant for the Departed, he would have sung along, but his heart was far too heavy with grief to sing the Chant. He knew for a fact he would have to say something, yet for once; he was speechless. He was still hoping this was some fucked up nightmare he would wake from soon.

A great dirge went up and a procession of Inquisition soldiers and Kirkwall guards began to march down the open line. They had carried the coffin through the entirety of Kirkwall, what pained Varric more; was the fact that the coffin sat empty, save for a few belongings that had once belonged to the Champion. They had no body to burn, no way of giving Hawke's soul unto the Maker. He balled his fist, hoping to control his rage and sorrow at the thought of Hawke dying alone in the Fade. He cursed the Wardens and he cursed Corypheus, he also cursed himself for cursing at a funeral.

The Seeker stood next to the pyre, she had refused to wear robes. 'Hawke was a warrior, he deserves a warrior to see him off.' She had punched one of her "advisors" for claiming it to be unseemly for a Divine or so the tale around the soldiers went; spread by Varric of course.

Adaar led the procession, she would tap her staff on the ground with each beat of drums and with each tap, a beam of light shot into the sky. Varric had to admit, it was flashy enough for Hawke. As the march ended, all eyes turned to Cassandra; she began her speech, saying her heartfelt farewells and called for the Maker to guide Hawke to his side.

One by one, each of Hawke's friends stepped up and said their goodbyes, it was hard to watch, as both Daisy and Rivaini broke down in front of anyone. They each placed a small item atop the pyre. Aveline placed the shield she had taken up when Wesley was cut down. Fenris placed the last book Hawke had given him; a copy of the Tale of the Champion. Isabela placed her own hat on the pyre, the large feathered cap looked quite out of place, atop the wooden pyre.

Merrill placed a small carving of a Halla; the same one Hawke had given to her all those years ago. Sebastian placed a carved symbol of the Chantry and one of the Starkhaven royal crest. Bethany placed a single unopened letter, she looked away from the crowd but Varric had seen it; tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Varric was last to approach the pyre. He looked to Cassandra and she gave him a small nod. Varric turned to the crowd and inhaled the humid air, bracing himself for what he was about to say.

"To call Hawke a great man, would be an insult to the man he truly was. He was just Hawke. No words can truly describe this man and even I couldn't do him justice if I tried. He just did what he wanted, when he wanted. If that meant, spending a night at the tavern or saving a whole city; then Hawke would do it." Varric paused a moment and quickly wiped his eyes. "Sorry, it's just a little dusty here." Aveline gave a stout shake of her head and chuckled, Varric continued. "He saved people on a daily basis, he did it not because it was right, but because he simply chose to. He hated to see sorrow and grief, heck; he would hate this if he could see it." He received a few chuckles from the crowd, though most just gave slight nods of their heads.

Varric looked out at the crowd and smiled slightly, he smiled for all the lifes, Hawke had touched by just being there at the right moment. He pushed on, knowing he could hold back his tears much longer. "I thought of Hawke as my best friend, a brother; miles better than my own to speak the truth. He would try his hardest to make you smile, he would always be there to help his friends, even if he knew it was wrong." People shifted uncomfortably, they did not like to acknowledge the scar left by Anders mad plan. "He cared more than he had common sence, that's true. But he still did his best to help others, he gave his life to save the lives of both soldiers and Wardens alike, he saved the life of the Inquisitor, he willingly gave his life, to save ours. He would look on us now and he would say 'I would do it again.' He would at that. He was best and the worst of us. He tried and failed on numerous occasions, but he never let that beat him; he would stand back up and push forward, ready to fight and determined to win."

Varric felt the tears rolling down his cheeks again, this time he let them. He still needed to know this was real. "I won't keep going. I don't want to drag this out much longer, I only have one last thing to say. So long Hawke, we'll miss you." He stopped speaking and walked away from the podium, he could not bare it any longer.

The great dirge went up once more and a Chantry sister began to walk down the long line of people, flaming torch in hand. As she approached the pyre, a great gust of wind blew throug the cith and snuffed out the small flame. The sister looked shocked, she looked disgusted with herself; for allowing the flames to be snuffed out. They went to relight the torch, when out of the sky; a bolt of harsh blue lightning struck the pyre and engulfed the wooden construct in fierce blue flames. They roared hotter and brighter, despite the rain. Many onlookers were shocked by the unnatural occurrence; but Varric and the others knew right away what had caused the bolt, the sudden departure of all the cats made it clear. That sudden bolt was Anders' own farewell.

The flames roared and the crowd seemed to accept it, they bowed their heads and spoke silent prayers; as the chanters began to sing the Chant in all its glory. Varric could hear the singing, but all he focus on at that time was the roaring blue flames, he feared more than anything else; that Hawke was still alive, roaming the Fade; ever lost and alone. He mentally slapped himself and pushed the thoughts away, he had to focus on what he was going to do next. He had to help his home get back on its feet, before it sank into the sea.

He walked away from the pyre and began to hum a small tune to himself; the story he would never tell, he had to write this shit down.

**A.N. With this chapter marks the end of the tale. I hope you peoples enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing.**

**I am sorry to see it end, but with it; I am free to begin anew with another tale. I will cherish the kind words and all of the support you peoples have shown this story. My thanks to you all for putting up with my slow updates.**

**Bu-bye peoples! You're the best!**


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